Haunted Wood a fearful devotion to a place without shape

Down she would go, a stumble or a tumble but regardless of how she met the earth below, she would stare up at him. The Captive's aim was still the same regardless of her new obstacles. She would only offer a sharp click of her ivory teeth. The gentle echo of it bounced off the pit's walls, amplified her desires.

Pay attention to me. Look, look, L O O K.

Hunger. She would rear on hind legs, front paws rested against the wall of her new residence. Not home. There was little chance she'd escape on her own with a hind leg so freshly healed from such a serious injury. Yet she foolishly trusted that if he had let her live even with her feverish thievery attempt, he might sustain her as well.